Indebted
by CeliaEquus
Summary: When Voldemort saves Hermione from muggers, it creates a Life Debt between them. How will this affect the outcome of the war? Usual disclaimers apply, of course. AU, and no doubt OOC. LV/HG, SS/LL. Rated for sexual references. No actual smut... I think.
1. A Surprise Rescuer

"A Surprise Rescuer"

"Help!"

He turned his head. The sounds of a scuffle came from a nearby alley. It was probably just a Muggle. Not worth his time.

He would have turned away again, only he heard something peculiar. Walking forward, he spotted something in the light of the street lamps. A stick, rolling from the alleyway. He heard another shout, and ran towards the sounds.

That was a wand he had seen.

Wandlessly—and wordlessly—Summoning it, he continued until he reached the alley. There was indeed a young woman struggling against three men. One pulled a gun on her.

"Give us your money!" he shouted.

"Expelliarmus!"

The gun flew from the man's hand. All three muggers looked around. The young woman hid her head in her hands, sobbing. Three green flashes later, three corpses lay at her feet.

Hermione's rescuer stayed silent, and she soon looked up. Seeing the three bodies, she let out a cry of relief. Blindly, she ran to her saviour, and threw her arms around his torso.

"Oh, thank you, sir!" she said, resting her cheek against his flat chest. "I owe you my life." They both felt the magical seal of a Life Debt forming between them, and she shivered when it was over. "Well," she stepped back and swiped away her tears. "That was an interesting sensation, wasn't…?" She gaped when she took in the face of her rescuer.

"Indeed, Miss Granger," Lord Voldemort said, and he smiled. "A most interesting sensation. And an even more interesting situation now, wouldn't you say?"

"I… I…" With that, Hermione passed out.

He chuckled, and picked her up. This was turning out to be a very good night, all things considered.

Harry Potter's friend now owed him a Life Debt.

How very amusing. And how very useful.

* * *

When Hermione came to, she had the funny sensation of something on her head. She realised that it was a folded hand washer. She moaned, trying to remember what had happened, and jumped as a pale hand moved in front of her face. It picked up the washer, and she watched as it was dipped in a bowl. Once wet again, the hand moved back to her forehead, and she closed her eyes at the warmth the cloth emitted. She winced as it moved over a bump. A few drops moved down her face. The washer was moved away, and her nurse—of sorts—cleaned off the drops with a dry handtowel.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome, Miss Granger."

Her eyes snapped open. It all came back to her now.

"Oh gods," she whispered. She pushed his hand away, and he smirked at her. "Voldemort."

"At your… well, actually. As I am the one who rescued _you_, then _you_ are at my…"

"Never," she said, and she leapt to her feet. He grabbed her around the waist when she turned ashen, and looked ready to faint. But she wrenched herself away from him.

"It would not be wise for you to leave, Miss Granger. You shouldn't Apparate in your condition."

"Is that your medical opinion?"

"A… suggestion."

"Hmm." She backed away, but he followed her. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing at the moment," he admitted, and he shrugged. "In fact, you are free to go. And fear not. I have placed no tracking charms on you. We are currently in a motel room. I shall not be here when you return. Just be careful." He chuckled. "Can't have you harming yourself before I can collect on the Life Debt, can I?"

Shocked, Hermione ran to the door. It was locked, and she felt for her wand. Horrified, she turned around.

"Where is it?"

He tilted his head at the small table by the door. There it lay. She snatched up her wand, unlocked the door, and ran outside. Voldemort smiled, and then lay down on the bed where the young woman had just been lying down.

It was still warm.

He smiled.

**

* * *

**

Part one of ten. To be continued.


	2. The Order Reacts

"The Order Reacts"

_Shocked, Hermione ran to the door. It was locked, and she felt for her wand. Horrified, she turned around._

"_Where is it?"_

_He tilted his head at the small table by the door. There it lay. She snatched up her wand, unlocked the door, and ran outside. Voldemort smiled, and then lay down on the bed where the young woman had just been lying down._

_It was still warm._

_He smiled._

Oh, gods above. That was one of the most frightening things that had ever happened to Hermione. And funnily enough, she wasn't thinking about her confrontation with Voldemort, but rather about the almost-mugging. She hadn't thought about it at the time, what had happened to them. Were they dead?

Well, no doubt it would be in the Muggle newspapers the next day. Or even _The Daily Prophet_. Magic had been performed in front of Muggles. The MoM would have been informed, and gone to the site.

She looked back. Sure enough, she had just left a motel. She heard what sounded like a gunshot, the sound of Apparation. Voldemort had just left. No doubt he wouldn't allow himself to be traceable. Nevertheless, she had to inform the Order of the Phoenix about this new development.

She hid behind some trees, made sure that no one was watching, and only then realised that it was daytime. Had people been worried? Were they looking for her? She'd been missing the whole night.

She apparated to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

* * *

"`Mione? Where _were_ you?"

"Come in here, dear. You look terrible."

"Is that a bump on her head?"

"She looks so scared…"

It seemed the entire Order of the Phoenix had been called to headquarters, presumably to mount a manhunt. Hermione was led to the couch, and Madame Pomfrey was summoned to examine her. The young woman—she was just sixteen—sat patiently, only vaguely hearing the questions on all sides of her. It finally sank in that she was in debt to Lord Voldemort in the worst possible way. She was trying to help get rid of him; and yet now she owed him her life.

"She's gone into shock," Madame Pomfrey said when Hermione's jaw dropped open, and her eyes went wide. She was absolutely frozen in place. "Severus, a calming draught?"

"Already brought one," the potions master said, handing a vial to the medi-witch.

"Thank you. Come on, Hermione. Snap out of it." She poured the potion down her patient's throat.

Hermione came out of the haze slowly. When she was able to focus, she looked around at everyone there.

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, her hands shaking. "Is he here?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," the headmaster said, and he walked forward. "What happened to you, my dear?"

"I…" She swallowed, and felt tears trickling down. Mrs. Weasley moved a cup of tea into her grasp, and Hermione sipped at the scalding liquid gratefully. Feeling composed, she started again. "I visited my parents, and decided to walk back to the Ministry to Apparate. It was light when I set out, but I got distracted by the bookshops that I passed. Eventually, it was too dark, and I decided just to Apparate from an alley. But I…"

"That wasn't very clever," Ron said, and Hermione scowled at him.

"I know, but I was tired and cold," she said. "It _is_ getting to winter, you know."

"Wait," Mr. Weasley said. "There was an incident in an alley last night. Magic in front of Muggles…"

"But she never got back last night," Ginny said. "I'd know. I'd have woken up."

"May I please finish the story?" Hermione snapped, and everyone looked shocked. She immediately felt guilty. "Sorry. It's just… It's been very stressful."

"Well, it can't have been you, anyway," Tonks said. "Kingsley and I got the report. The Killing Curse was used."

"Oh gods. So they _were_ dead."

"Who?" Moody asked, standing straighter.

"The muggers," Hermione said. "Three men attacked me. I cried out for help—dropped my wand at some point—and one of them drew a gun. Someone came along and disarmed him magically. I didn't see what curses were used, and I was crying too loudly to hear the incantations. When it was quiet, I looked up, and they were on the ground. All three."

"So who rescued you?" Harry asked.

"I'm getting to that!" She sighed. "Again, sorry. Without looking, I threw myself into the stranger's arms, and… incurred a Life Debt. I didn't mean to do it, but I _meant_ it, so it's sealed now. I owe him my life." She stared at her clenched fists. "I owe… Lord Voldemort… my… my life." She whispered the last two words.

There was silence. Dumbledore broke it when he squatted down in front of Hermione, and tilted her face up.

"Legillimens," he muttered, and his eyes widened as he watched the mugging—and afterwards—play out. He ended the spell, and straightened. "Oh dear. What have you done, Miss Granger?"

"You mean… it isn't a joke?" Remus said. "Oh, Merlin."

"If… if it's any consolation," Hermione said, "he said that he hasn't placed a tracking charm on me or anything."

"When was this? And why didn't you come here straight away?" Sirius asked.

"Please, you have to understand. I was frightened, shocked. It was too much. I… I fainted. I didn't wake until this morning. He looked after me." She laughed weakly. "I woke to him stroking my head with a wet washer. He gave me my wand, and let me go."

"Oh, come on!" Harry said, looking absolutely furious. "Voldemort wouldn't do that. He would have killed you."

"No, there's definitely something that he's planning," she said, shaking her head. "Don't you see, Harry? It's very Slytherin of him. He intends to use me. I owe him my life, which means that I can't work against him. Not now."

"No," he agreed. "Which means that you have to work against us."

"What? No! No, I can just not work against anyone. Perhaps I can instead help the people who are injured in the war, do things that don't endanger him directly? Really!"

"Harry's right to be suspicious," Moody said. Dumbledore, to Hermione's horror, nodded.

"It's best if you leave," he said. "Tom could still convince you to tell him our location."

"But I wouldn't let hi…"

"We can't take that risk," Sirius said, stepping forward as well. Hermione stood, and began to back away from the couch, feeling cornered.

"Hang on. Can't we discuss this? I could take an oath…"

"Not so soon after creating a Life Debt," Dumbledore said. "You know that."

"Well then, knock me out and keep me in a coma until I _can_ take an oath."

"I'm sorry, Hermione." The headmaster raised his wand. "Obli…"

Hermione Apparated away, back to the motel room. She didn't know why she chose that place, but she did. Maybe she hoped to find _some_ trace?

* * *

Lord Voldemort had left a note, one which he had written during the night, while she slept soundly. He had no desire to sully himself with a Mudblood, but he didn't mind keeping this one… close. He knew the way Dumbledore's mind worked. They would no doubt gang up on the girl.

He also knew that she would return to the motel. For whatever reason, she would return.

And then she would come to him.

To think. He had only been walking around Muggle London to examine possible weak spots, and maybe even buildings which Dumbledore would never suspecting him to be using. Well, he may have lost that opportunity now.

But something _much _better had happened.

**

* * *

**

Part two of ten. To be continued.


	3. Professor Snape Helps

"Professor Snape Helps"

_Hermione Apparated away, back to the motel room. She didn't know why she chose that place, but she did. Maybe she hoped to find some trace?_

_Lord Voldemort had left a note, one which he had written during the night. He had no desire to sully himself with a Mudblood, but he didn't mind keeping this one close. He knew the way Dumbledore's mind worked. They would no doubt gang up on the girl._

_He also knew that she'd return to the motel. For whatever reason, she would return._

_And then she would come to him._

There had only been a note; nothing else. Before touching it, Hermione had cast spells to make sure that there was nothing dark about it. There was one charm on it that had her intrigued, so she unfolded the note using magic, making sure not to touch the parchment.

It said:

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_As you will know by now, this note is a portkey. However, it will only activate with the words 'Take me to him'. Only one person can use it, and that is you. Tracking charms will be detected and eradicated, no matter the harm to you and or others._

_I look forward to seeing you. And rest assured. Your family is safe from me. You are too valuable to lose._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Voldemort._

Once she was assured that it was safe to handle, Hermione had scrunched it up, and placed it in her pocket. She would think over it later. For now, she was more concerned with one thing: getting to Professor Snape. She would Apparate to Spinner's End, and wait for him there.

* * *

Severus Snape felt it as soon as his wards were activated. He couldn't believe Dumbledore's actions, nor that so many supported him. Admittedly, Mrs. Weasley, Remus Lupin, and a few others were on Hermione's side. But the majority seemed to be against the poor girl. And no one in that room had ever faced Voldemort the way he had to, on an almost daily basis. So they were in no position to understand her.

He excused himself as soon as possible, and flooed home. He was shocked to see that his unwanted house guest was the young woman he had just been thinking about.

"Miss Granger," he said, masking his shock well. "How wonderful to see you again so soon, and looking so well."

"You're not going to hurt me, are you, sir?" she asked. He scowled.

"How many times over the years have I protected you? I'm disgusted that you have been given cause to suppose that I could harm you, particularly now, when you need someone who can empathise with your situation."

"Yes. I suppose so. I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I'm just a bit on edge… still."

"Understandable. Now, why are you here? Are you simply seeking refuge?"

"No," she said, standing. "I need to know more about life debts. But first, I also need you to do something else for me."

"And what is that?"

"You're the only one I can trust to do this."

"What _is_ it, Miss Granger?"

She took a deep breath, and expelled it slowly. "I need you to wipe any memories of number twelve from my mind. Or at least the address. If Voldemort—sorry, You-Know-Who—uses Legillimancy on me…"

"I understand." He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well. Sit back down, and prepare yourself."

* * *

Voldemort had been disappointed when she didn't come to him straight away. He knew that she had found the note, and read it. He knew when she had left the motel room. Of course, he had only made the sound of Apparation. The note was supposed to take her to his 'lair', and then he would have followed. Instead, she had taken it on good faith that he really had left, whereas he was standing in a corner of the room, Disillusioned, the whole time.

Now, he could sense something very strange. Obliviation! Someone was methodically removing her memories. Which? No doubt they were the important ones. Surely she hadn't returned to the Order?

The strong magic invading her mind ceased. Their Life Debt connection was still fresh, so he was sensitive to things like that. He could feel when she Apparated, though not where she was. So how could he find her? Well, there was no harm trying it Potter-style.

He searched her mind as he had done with Harry Potter's during the year before his godfather's death, and subsequent return from the dead. When Bellatrix had been struck down during a revel—dying in a most gruesome way, come to that—Sirius Black had emerged from the Veil unharmed. Just Stunned, the way he had entered.

Ah! She was with Severus. He heard her asking about the punishment for failing a Life Debt.

"Death," he saw Severus tell her. "I am truly sorry, Miss Granger. If only he had been defeated before now, then you would be safe from this…"

"Defeated?" Voldemort said. Severus wanted him dead, too? The traitor!

With a crack of Apparation, he was at Spinner's End within moments. Hermione shrieked, and leapt from the chair, nearly knocking her professor over. Severus frowned, and then his eyes widened in horror. He had obviously realised that they had been overheard.

And, from the look of equal terror in Hermione's eyes, she had come to the same conclusion.

"So," the Dark Lord said, looking down at his 'spy'. "You would willingly betray me?"

"My lord…"

"I am waiting."

"He was just trying to comfort me," Hermione said, stepping closer to her enemy, but also away from the potions teacher. "I was distressed. My life has just turned upside down overnight, all because I lingered at book stores, and nearly got mugged!" She glanced at Severus. Run when I've distracted him enough, she thought. He gave her a barely-perceptible nod, having used Legillimancy on her. She returned her gaze to Voldemort, who was watching her.

"You would go to the house of a Death Eater for help, believing that he is really on my side?" he asked.

"It is not my place to judge which side of the war Professor Snape is on."

"I see. But you have not answered my question."

"You know that portkey you left for me in the motel room?" she said, drawing the scrunched-up parchment from her pocket. "This is what I think of _your_ ;offer of refuge'." She levitated it into the air, and set it alight. Voldemort grew angry, and Hermione felt it. So did Severus; who, loathe though he was to do it, took advantage of his former master's distraction to Apparate away. When the Dark Lord realised what had happened, he extinguished the flames, and grabbed Hermione. Her eyes widened as he plucked the burnt paper from the air, and shoved it into her free hand.

"Imperio," he said, and her eyes went blank. "Say the words."

"Take me to him," she said, her voice a monotone. He chuckled as she disappeared.

The foolish girl had forgotten that ordinary fire couldn't destroy un-activated portkeys.

**

* * *

**

End of part three. To be continued.


	4. Kidnapped, Confined, Used

"Kidnapped, Confined, Used"

_Voldemort grew angry, and Hermione felt it. So did Severus; who, loathe though he was to do it, took advantage of his former master's distraction to Apparate away. When the Dark Lord realised what had happened, he extinguished the flames, and grabbed Hermione. Her eyes widened as he plucked the burnt paper from the air, and shoved it into her free hand._

"_Imperio," he said, and her eyes went blank. "Say the words."_

"_Take me to him," she said, voice a monotone. He chuckled as she disappeared._

_The foolish girl had forgotten that ordinary fire couldn't destroy un-activated portkeys._

Hermione promised to take an oath if she was allowed to word it herself. Voldemort was too pleased about having her with him to care. Just as long as she couldn't harm him—something he was assured of with the Life Debt, anyway—he didn't mind. For she was going to help him.

Finally, she had composed something he approved of; and they sat opposite each other, with Death Eaters as witnesses. She spoke the words she had written, verbatim. It was important that she not deviate from her speech.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, do swear upon my life never to harm the Dark Lord Voldemort in any way. I also swear to help him research methods of immortality, power, control, and other means of securing his goal of running the wizarding world. I will not hinder his plans, nor will I reveal the results of any of this research to anyone but him, unless otherwise instructed."

"Well done, my dear Hermione," Voldemort said. He smirked as the magic took hold, and she visibly paled.

"I… I want to go now," she said, and he nodded. They both stood, and he offered her his arm. He accompanied her to the bedroom allocated for her personal use, conveniently located right next door to his room.

Not that he had a particular desire to be so close. He didn't have any of _those_ kinds of designs on her. It just tickled him that this was Harry Potter's former best friend, and the brightest student at Hogwarts since… well, since Tom Riddle himself was a student. None of his Death Eaters matched her intelligence. Well, perhaps Lucius, and Severus certainly had. But he wouldn't think about that traitor.

Unfortunately, all his efforts of Legillimancy came up negative. Any memories of the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters had been removed by the spy, and most effectively. He couldn't have done better himself.

Unfortunately.

Still, when he won the war, there would be retribution. And he would make sure that Hermione was there to watch every bit of it.

* * *

Weeks of research followed. The only upside to this whole mess was that Hermione had access to a library which, in many ways, surpassed the ones at Hogwarts and headquarters… wherever that was. She certainly didn't regret having Professor Snape wipe the location from her memory. It was just a strange sensation, knowing that there was something she used to know, and could no longer recall. Mildly frustrating, but no real bother.

"How go things, Hermione?" Voldemort asked. She jumped in her seat, nearly spilling her bottle of ink.

"Uh, fine. Well, that is to say, I've got a few leads, but I need an atlas, and I couldn't reach the one up the top. You know, the one with the most details? And I can't levitate it down, because you told me that…"

"Yes, yes. I know. Here." He stretched up, and pulled down the book. "Perhaps I should purchase a ladder of some kind. Would that help you?"

"Y-yes, it would. I'm not complaining, I just…"

"It's fine, Hermione." He patted her on the head, and then stroked her cheek. She nearly dropped the book in shock, and pulled back. He frowned, but merely walked away without another word, leaving her to wonder what the hell was going on.

* * *

He had promised to tell her things about the outside world. Hermione wasn't allowed to talk to anyone except the Dark Lord, and she wasn't allowed near any newspapers. She dined alone most of the time, though sometimes he would join her for dinner or lunch. Never breakfast. She suspected that he would consider it too domestic.

Continually he promised her that she would be told if anything significant happened.

Continually she pressed him for that information.

Continually he remained silent on the matter.

"Good evening," Voldemort said, entering her bedroom. It was more like an apartment, with an en suite, and a direct passage to the library. There was also a connecting door to his room, but she never made use of it, nor did she have any intention of doing so.

"Hello," she said, her soft voice drifting from the small dining table in the corner. "Did you have a productive day?"

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with." He sat opposite her, and the house elves brought in the first course. "Did you get much work done?"

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with."

It was the same conversation every night. Until now.

Or, at least, until after dessert.

The chocolate pudding digested, the polite conversation—such as it was—over, they stood, ready to part. But tonight, Hermione spoke out of turn.

"Damn it, just tell me what's going on outside. I assume you haven't won, otherwise you would have gloated, and then killed me. What use am I to you if your side prevails?" He looked faintly surprised.

"Perhaps I would wish to keep you around," he said. "But you are right. I would indeed… inform you of victory."

"And if you die? Who knows my whereabouts? What will happen in the event of the other side winning?"

"Do not worry your pretty little head about that, my dear. That will never happen." He turned to leave once again, but she grabbed his arm.

"Don't you walk away while I'm talking to you! _Not_ this time!"

"Why you…" Voldemort swung around, and grabbed her upper arms with a grip that would induce bruises on a dragon's skin. Hermione nearly burst into tears from the pain. "_Never_ tell me what to do, girl! You do not own me."

"Nor do you own _me_, and yet you behave that way. Now tell me what's going on outside! I'll go mad if I don't know…"

"Oh, of course! Must keep the Hogwarts Know-It-All abreast of all information." He shook her, and she cried out. It was just then that the Dark Lord realised that he could feel her bones, so tightly was he holding her. Immediately, he let go. "I… I'm…"

"Please, just leave," she said, cradling her arms.

"Let me help…"

"Ha!" She looked around, her laugh bitter. "You wish to help me? This uncharacteristic desire to 'help' me is what got me into this mess in the first place!" she shouted. His eyes flashed as he felt his temper returning. He stepped forward, grabbing her face in his hands, and pulled her close.

"Just be grateful," he whispered, "that you are still alive, _my dear_." He said the words; but something was missing. Her lips… they looked so enticing. Voldemort leaned forward, when it hit him.

He was about to kiss the Mudblood.

He pulled away, and left the room in a hurry, never noticing that she had closed her eyes.

**

* * *

**

Part four of ten. To be continued.


	5. Battle is Done

"Battle Is Done"

"_Just be grateful," he whispered, "that you are still alive, my dear." He said the words; but something was missing. Her lips… they looked so enticing. Voldemort leaned forward, when it hit him._

_He was about to kiss the Mudblood._

_He pulled away, and left the room in a hurry, never noticing that she had closed her eyes._

It was more than a little disconcerting, this life Hermione was leading. Research for Voldemort; secret research for Harry. She started to get headaches when doing that, even though she had made sure that the words of the oath were so ambiguous that she could still try to help her friend. However, she discovered that any results could lead to the Dark Lord's death, something which, in turn, would kill her.

But this wasn't the only thing giving her trouble. Voldemort kept staring at her; a nerve-wracking experience for anyone. The one bit of real kindness he had shown her since that night was when he gave her a bruise salve and a pain relief potion for her arms. He had even brewed them himself, as he had lost his only competent brewer; and Hermione had been in no condition to stir potions.

This brings us to the last thing that gave her pause. When he had been holding her face, she had closed her eyes as he moved closer. Closed. Her. Eyes. As though she had wanted to be kissed! By him!

Admittedly, when she couldn't see him, she was able to concentrate on the smoothness of his palms, hands which had bruised her only moments before. She was able to concentrate on the feel of his breath as his lips approached.

And then he had pulled away.

She supposed that it was all for the best. He was her only human contact, so of course she'd be leaning towards him for the tiniest bit of affection, or at least friendship. And he definitely wasn't friend material, nor was he the material of amicable acquaintanceship.

Hermione's forehead connected with the table in the library. Grr! How the hell could any of this research help Harry?

She sighed, raised her head, and continued to skim through the book in front of her, looking for anything, anything at all. If only she could hurt Voldemort! Or at least his followers…

"That's it," she whispered, and she turned back a number of pages. It had suddenly hit her: she hadn't made an oath against the Death Eaters! Her Life Debt wasn't with them!

* * *

At dinner that night, silence reigned. It had become the bulk of their conversation, this not-speaking. But she actually had something to report that night.

"I've found a control spell that actually works on your Death Eaters," she said, and his fork clattered to the plate. Voldemort looked at her, expression blank as he picked up the utensil, and continued to eat. She took that as her cue to continue. "It will ensure their complete and utter subservience to you. It goes into the Dark Mark."

"What does it do?"

"They'll follow your orders without question, and never speak out of turn. It will achieve the control over them that you desire, with very little effort on your part. Of course, there are so many with the Mark, so it would take awhile to get through them all and renew it. And people like Professor Snape—deserters—wouldn't be affected because they are required to be there for the change. The upgrade, if you will." He smiled slightly, before quickly reverting to his usual neutral mask. "But anyone who is Marked from now on… well, it's just an adjustment to the spell that you use. And they won't be able to leave your service, either."

"Does it work?"

"You won't know until you try it, but I brought my notes. I checked with a couple of other books, just in case instructions deviated. They all say the same thing, however, and it reportedly works just fine." She Summoned her notes, and they flew into Voldemort's hand. He studied them while he drank. When he was finished, he smiled at Hermione, sending shivers up and down her entire skeleton, not just her spine.

"Well done, my dear," he said. He hadn't called her his 'dear' since that night. That night… "I'm very pleased with this. Tell me, do you feel as though you have betrayed your friends by finding this?"

"What friends?" she asked bitterly. She sighed. "Look, what choice do I have? I took an oath, after all. And I still owe you my life, don't I? I haven't saved yours yet, so…"

He chuckled, and stood, the meal finished. "I shall let you know how everything goes."

Hermione nodded, and was relieved when he had left, even though she felt lonely as a result. But she had helped Harry. Even though Voldemort would now have total obedience from all of those newly-marked, there was one good thing, something she had left out of her notes.

Should Voldemort die, the Death Eaters would all feel lost, having no leader. Then they could all be captured, the war ended.

Well, she wasn't the Gryffindor know-it-all for nothing.

Professor Snape would be proud.

* * *

Professor Snape was, at that moment, at an Order meeting. He was still angry over their treatment of Hermione, but it was the only place for him to go, now that he was no longer a Death Eater. He had taken a potion of his own invention, which eradicated the Dark Mark from his arm.

Constantly, he found himself thinking about Hermione. Was she all right? He had seen the motel room in her memories, and had gone straight there, before the Aurors could find it, and start mucking about. But he couldn't find anything.

Just then, a patronus arrived. They all recognised Voldemort's voice:

"_I now declare war on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Shall I see you there? If you arrive in time, you may see your precious Hermione doing her utmost to save my life. After all, she is now _my_ Hermione._"

The silvery beaver disappeared, and the potions master was the only one left wondering: one, what was his happy memory?, and two, why a beaver?

One of his own remembrances emerged from his subconsciousness…

"_Severus, what do you have to report? More about Potter?"_

"_I have told you much, my lord. As much as I know about the little brat."_

"_Then tell me about his friends, and their insecurities."_

"_Weasley—the boy—has one particular weakness: jealousy. The Granger girl…"_

"_The Mudblood."_

_He winced internally. "Yes, my lord. She loves reading, and—from what I hear—is insecure about her appearance. To tell the truth, she didn't look like much when she first came to Hogwarts. The only thing noteworthy about her was her intellect, and desire to prove herself. Bushy hair, buck teeth. I've heard her referred to as a beaver; an accurate description. She and the Weasel would go well together, although she has since improved in looks."_

"_Interesting…"_

The professor's eyes widened. The Dark Lord's patronus was Hermione Granger! It had to be. He would have expected a snake; something deadly, or at least dangerous.

"Severus? We must get to Hogwarts immediately!"

"Coming, Albus."

* * *

Hermione was prepared to die. There was nothing else for it. What use would saving Lord Voldemort be if he took over the wizarding world? No matter what he said, she had no reason to believe that he wouldn't torture and kill her. It was hypocritical enough for a half-blood to try to purify the wizarding population, but to keep a Muggleborn alive, when his goal is to destroy _all_ Muggleborns?

She found herself fighting his Death Eaters. They had been given instructions not to kill her, but that didn't cover them defending themselves. So she was just wasting energy on people who were merely putting up shields, looking rather confused, too.

Just then, the Order arrived, and she sighed in relief. That is, until a hex was shot at her, and she had to duck. Fortunately, it hit the Death Eater behind her. But it didn't help her situation when the Death Eaters actually jumped to her defence. She could have cried at the injustice.

Instead, she fought her way through, defending against the Light while attacking the Dark, and creating all-round confusion.

It happened swifter than expected. One weak moment, a flash of green from Voldemort, and Harry Potter was dead. There was silence, and then the duelling intensified.

"Hermione!" the Dark Lord called, signalling her to join him. Hermione shook her head, and he looked furious. She turned away, and saw Professor Snape. She smiled in relief, and went to join him in the fighting. She could feel Voldemort's anger cloaking her, and she shuddered.

"Miss Granger? Are you all right?" Professor Snape asked as they fought back-and-back, getting closer to their enemy.

"I'm fine. You try to kill him."

"Bit difficult with all these people trying to kill me."

It was true. He was tackling far more people than she was. Dumbledore was already down, so some Death Eaters were celebrating early; and the Light's numbers were dwindling.

"Sir?" she said. He grunted in reply, encouraging her to speak. "You must promise me to get people together, and band them against Voldemort. Give the Order a rebirth. You know, in case he survives the battle. If he dies, the Death Eaters can be gathered together easily, and thrown into Azkaban. He has performed _Moderatio et Facilis Absolutus_ on each of their Marks, but it doesn't affect you. Clearly."

Professor Snape paused. "Hermione, you're a bloody genius." A near-miss with a hex, however, brought his focus back to the battle.

Voldemort was battling Professor McGonagall. Hermione saw her opportunity, and went to join her head of house in fighting. Just then, she heard them both speaking the Killing Curse, wands aimed at each other.

"No!" she shouted, and she threw herself in front of Professor McGonagall, taking the curse. Distracted, the Transfiguration professor's aim went wild, but Voldemort had stopped anyway. A Killing Curse hit the teacher's back. With the second-in-command down, Professor Snape shouted for those remaining Order members to get to headquarters, and they started to fight their way out of the castle.

Voldemort didn't notice. He was instead staring at Hermione's body. If he had been killed, she would have died anyway; but he was counting on living. In a way, she _had_ saved his life; but at the price of her own.

"Life Debt fulfilled," he said, walking over to her body. His words drew the attention of everyone, as the light of the Debt flickered, and diminished. Once it was gone, the Dark Lord fell to his knees beside Hermione. "And I wish it hadn't been."

He absently placed his wand up his sleeve, before using both hands to stroke the hair away from Hermione's face. Everyone watched, shocked, as he raised her upper body in his arms, and placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"I love you," he said, feeling a little shocked himself by the admission. But it was true. "And I _will_ get you back. Come hell or high water, I _will_ get you back."

And as Professor Snape led the remaining members of the Light away, planning to fulfil Hermione's last wish to reform the Order of the Phoenix, Voldemort began his own plotting, determined to bring life back to the girl he had killed.

The girl he loved.

**

* * *

**

End of part five. To be continued.


	6. The Last Resort

"The Last Resort"

"_I love you," he said, feeling a little shocked himself by the admission. But it was true. "And I will get you back. Come hell or high water, I will get you back."_

_And as Professor Snape led the remaining members of the Light away, planning to fulfil Hermione's last wish to reform the Order of the Phoenix, Voldemort began his own plotting, determined to bring life back to the girl he had killed._

_The girl he loved._

"There has been _no_ Death Eater activity," Mad-Eye Moody said. He was one of the last remaining original Order members. He, Arthur Weasley, and Professor Snape were the only ones from the first war. Tonks, Fred, Charlie, Fleur, and Ginny were left, even though Fleur and Ginny weren't actually from the Order of the Phoenix. The only others who had evaded Death Eater capture were Luna, Dennis, and Ernie.

"If a few had been leading attacks on their own, I would be less concerned," Severus said, tapping an empty quill on the table. They had taken over an abandoned barn, making it Unplottable. It was now a mini-fortress for the second rebirth of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Why would it be less worrying if there were independent attacks?" Charlie asked.

"Because absence of activity may indicate some greater plan," he said. "Our only hope is that they may think themselves defeated." He rubbed at his arm absent-mindedly, and then recalled Hermione's last words to him. He frowned. "Wait. They will be collectively acting on his orders. Are we agreed on that?"

"What do you mean?" Tonks said.

The former professor quickly repeated his conversation with Hermione. "So you see, they are completely under his control. If he tells them to do something, they will do it. If, however, he gives them _no_ instructions, there will be no activity. It could be that he is pre-occupied with some other thoughts…"

"What other thoughts?"

"Did you see what he did to… to Miss Granger? To her body, I should say."

"I did," Arthur said. Fleur and Ginny both nodded, as did Luna.

"What did he do?" Ernie asked, clenching his fists.

"He… _kissed_ her," Severus said. "Tenderly, though. No bad emotion, except perhaps sadness. And then…"

"Then?" Dennis said, leaning forward.

"I was the only one of us close enough to hear, wasn't I?"

"No," Luna said. "I heard him. He said that he loved her."

"You know how obsessed the Dark Lord has always been with immortality," the professor continued, holding out his hands at the side, taking in the incredulous looks around him. "It may be that he is trying to bring her back to life."

There was silence. Moody spoke first.

"So you think he's so busy trying to bring back the Granger girl that he's forgetting to be himself?" he said. Severus shrugged.

"I am only positing a theory. But it has merit, surely?"

"Maybe…" Luna began, but she trailed off. Everyone looked at her. "Maybe we could send an article to the _Prophet_, like an obituary for Hermione. Perhaps he will be so overcome with sorrow that he will do something? Anything?"

Severus looked at her admiringly. "You mean, either he will commit suicide, and we can arrest all of the remaining Death Eaters, or he'll make some kind of move so that we can kill him, and make the arrests? Something like that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm." He leant forward on one elbow, chin resting on the palm of his hand. "What a good thought. Who here knows the most about Miss Granger?"

* * *

Nearly going spare, Voldemort threw aside yet another book on dark magic. He reached for the next one in the pile, and was dismayed to see that it was the last one. He looked around despairingly, and groaned. His head fell onto his folded arms. Without looking, he pulled the final book towards himself.

Salazar, he hadn't even done this much research when _he_ was trying to come back to life. And a rebound Killing Curse was different from a direct one.

At the moment, he had made sure that Hermione's body was treated Snow White-style; placed in Stasis, and in a glass coffin, which he had had installed in the middle of the library, so that her dead body could inspire him to find the way to bring her back to life.

"Hermione," he whispered, raising his head to stare across the room at her. "I'm so sorry, my darling. Gods above, why did I have to find this so late? Why couldn't we have met so many years ago, before all of this? Why did this feeling only come to me _now_?" He shouted the last word, slamming his hands on the table. The slight sting brought him back to his senses, and he cracked open the book.

"Come on, come on, come on," he chanted. An hour later, he was only a third of the way through the book.

Well, it _was_ a big book, and he wanted to make sure that he didn't skip over anything even marginally important.

It wasn't until ten at night that he realised how hungry he was. Sighing, he closed the book, memorising the page number, and put the others away using wandless magic. He pushed back his chair, and took the book with him to Hermione's old room. He now took all his meals there, and the house elves were used to the odd hours that he kept.

No one ever dared ask him about his plans, and what his followers should have been doing. They told him that fewer than a dozen people got away, and that there was little chance of their group expanding, except, perhaps, by reproduction. And Lord Voldemort certainly couldn't see that happening.

Over Hermione's favourite meal of pasta, salad, and treacle tart for dessert, he continued to read. His heart—what there was of it—sank as he reached the last chapter. If he failed in this, he would have to send out some of his Death Eaters to get more books. Fortunately, they had grown so mindless—particularly since his defeat—that they would only follow orders. No free-thinking.

He had been particularly impressed when he found what Hermione had read about the spell, and felt a slight pain in his chest that she had been working against him as best she could. But he could do little about it now; and indeed, he wouldn't wish to.

He just wanted his Hermione back.

Because she _was_ his Hermione, and she would be again.

The Dark Lord sighed once more, and commenced reading the last chapter.

He almost choked on the pastry when he realised that this just might work. It was no doubt the last resort—but it _was_ his best bet.

He would go to Mount Olympus.

**

* * *

**

End of part six. To be continued.


	7. Preparing to Leave

"Preparing to Leave"

_He just wanted his Hermione back._

_Because she was his Hermione, and she would be again._

_The Dark Lord sighed once more, and commenced reading the last chapter._

_He almost choked on the pastry when he realised that this just might work. It was no doubt the last resort—but it was his best bet._

_He would go to Mount Olympus._

Perhaps he should arrange some attacks on Muggles? Just to give his Death Eaters something to do? Hmm. He needed them to be out of the way. They may have been under control; but it was so bad that they kept coming to him, clinging to his authority. He had to be alone to travel to Mount Olympus. Voldemort really wasn't thinking about what might happen when he left, and he really didn't care.

He made up his mind.

They would go north.

And he would take a Firebolt with him.

How else could he get to the Northern Lights?

* * *

Luna and Professor Snape were nominated to write the advertisement, with input from Ginny. She told the professor all she could, and then the unusual pair were left to their own devices, being the best at writing in the group. The black-haired man was brilliant at the technical side, and Luna could write very moving pieces, having learnt from her father.

"Do you really think that this might get to him?" the blonde girl asked, looking worried as she read over the fourth paragraph.

"It has been said—both in the wizarding and Muggle worlds—that when facing a stranger who's about to kill you, the more personal information that you give them, the less likely they are to kill you. Something about playing for sympathy, no doubt." He sneered. "The Dark Lord has no feelings; or so I always thought. If he really has changed in that respect, it is because of Miss Granger."

"Will he be able to bring her back, Severus?"

He raised an eyebrow at the liberty, but couldn't help like the way she said it. The dreamy note that was perpetually in her voice made it sound… nice. But she was waiting for an answer, so he gave himself a mental shake.

"No. I do not believe that there is any possible way he can bring her back to life. Not the way we would wish. And I think that he would wish _Hermione_ back; her essence, her spirit, her soul. Not her body." His eyes traced her face, and he swallowed. He looked down at his hands, one which was resting on the parchment, and one holding a quill. The feather was the colour of Luna's hair.

"Well, we'd better get it on, hadn't we?" His head jerked up, and she blushed. "I mean, get on with it."

"Either one is fine with me," he murmured. She gasped quietly, and he saw her redden further. He resumed editing the article. Once finished, he pushed it back across the table. Luna was looking a bit peaky, and he felt guilty. He stood, and she looked up at him.

"Sir?"

"You may continue to call me by my first name," he said, and he touched her left arm where it was resting on the table. "I… quite like it when you say it." He gave her a small smile. "Now let us have something to eat and drink." The way his eyes followed the curves of her body down, and then travelled back up, made her wonder just what he had in mind. "Are you coming?" He tilted his head towards the kitchen, and she stood so quickly that her chair fell over. Before she could right it, he bent down beside her, and drew the seat up to its feet. He stood slowly, and was soon towering over her.

"Uh… tea and biscuits?" she said, her voice shaking. He nodded.

* * *

Voldemort and his Death Eaters travelled to Scotland, as far north-west as possible, by way of Hogwarts. He gave them instructions to attack a wizarding village, and then hide for a few days until he returned. Then they would lead some more attacks, but with Hermione by their master's side.

Under the cover of night, Lord Voldemort flew from the tip of Great Britain. He had to get to Iceland to see its aurora. A warming charm and Disillusionment spell cast, he had mounted the broomstick, and set out, compass attached to the handle.

What seemed like hours later, he reached the country. Touching down, he removed the spells, and transfigured his coat into something a lot warmer. He used a Reducio on the Firebolt, and tucked it into a pocket, before casting Glamours on his face. He walked until he found a village, and went to a corner shop, noting the signs that were half in English with a smile.

"Good evening," he said to the woman behind the counter. She smiled at him.

"Good evening," she replied with a thick Icelandic accent. "May I help you?" She spoke slowly, presumably to make sure that she got it right.

"I would like to see the northern lights," he said. "I need provisions—supplies. Whatever necessary. And also directions." He flashed her his most charming smile.

Only a matter of minutes later, he was hiding behind the shop. With not even a single krona to spend, he'd had to Confund the woman into thinking that he had paid her. Once upon a time, he might have killed her, not only to save money but also for being a Muggle. When had he become so merciful? Oh yes. Hermione.

He had picked a good time to be performing magic in front of Muggles, at least in Iceland. With a presidential election on at the moment—where even the wizarding population voted—the Icelandic Ministry of Magic would be too busy to deal with small spells. With this comforting thought in mind, he Apparated to the place he had been shown on the map in the store.

Voldemort was awed by the light display in front of him. It was almost as beautiful as his Hermione. The colours undulated hypnotically. But he had something more important to do.

While he waited for midnight, he feasted on dried fish which he dipped in skyr, a soft, creamy cheese. For dessert, he ate snúður, a type of cinnamon roll. He saved the kleinur for later, needing the fattiness of the fried dough to sustain him in the cold weather.

The Dark Lord cast the Tempus charm, and counted down the minutes until the witching hour. With sixty seconds remaining, he dismissed the spell, enlarged the broomstick to its proper side, packed the food into his bag, and kicked up into the sky. He flew until he was directly above the Aurora Borealis, taking a mental picture.

The edges of the aurora displayed a very precise outline. He took careful note of the single 'strand' piercing the landscape. From the book that he had read, he knew that this would give the exact location of the place he needed to go to within twenty-four hours, the only way to get to Mount Olympus. Always in Greece; always changing place.

Once memorised, he flew off. There would be no time wasted in getting to West Macedonia.

* * *

Lips moved against each other while everyone else was asleep. They were both relieved that rooms had been installed in the barn, and comfortable beds transfigured from tools and old pieces of tack. Right now, Luna was pressed up against the wall of her room by her ex-potions professor. They had sent off the article to_ The Daily Prophet_ half an hour ago.

Now they were… taking a break. After all, it was past Luna's bedtime.

An odder couple you would be hard-pressed to find. The dark, cynical man, and the light, optimistic girl. But this was wartime, and only a handful of their comrades were left. Things didn't just look bleak; they _were_ bleak. And under those circumstances, they were prepared to do whatever it took to get close to someone, and stay close to them, no matter who it was.

"Oh gods," Luna whispered as Professor Snape's lips left hers, and made their way down her neck. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

"Hush," he said. "Or do you really want everyone to hear?" She whimpered. "I thought not."

"C-cast a s-silencing charm," she said, and he smirked against her neck. He sucked gently, thoughtfully, and drew his wand.

"Divesto."

She gasped as the cool air struck every inch of her skin, just as his tongue was massaging her pulse point.

"N-no…"

"It's more exciting this way, don't you think?"

**

* * *

**

End of part seven. To be continued.


	8. On to Florina

"On to Florina"

"_Oh gods," Luna whispered as Professor Snape's lips left hers, and made their way down her neck. "Oh, sweet Merlin."_

"_Hush," he said. "Or do you really want everyone to hear?" She whimpered. "I thought not."_

"_C-cast a s-silencing charm," she said, and he smirked against her neck. He sucked gently, thoughtfully, and drew his wand._

"_Divesto."_

_She gasped as the cool air struck every inch of her skin, just as his tongue was massaging her pulse point._

"_N-no…"_

"_It's more exciting this way, don't you think?"_

It was mid-afternoon when Lord Voldemort reached West Macedonia. He had stopped for a rest in the Netherlands, and apparated to Austria, which was as far as he could go. Montenegro was next after another short sleep. He then Disillusioned himself again, and preserved some energy by flying over Albania. He got to Florina, one of the prefectures of West Macedonia. He certainly needed a rest now.

Unpacking his bag, he arched an eyebrow at the variety of foods he had 'purchased'. As a fan of cheese, he'd acquired edam from the Netherlands, spicy liptauer from Austria, kaymak from Montenegro, and feta from Greece. In Albania, he had partaken of some tarator, quickly getting used to the coldness of the soup.

He had also collected various breads and pastries along the way. Rumetinov, a corn bread, and börek, a pastry, in Montenegro. Wurstsemmel, a meat-filled roll, and palatschinken, filled pancakes, in Austria. Oliebol, a kind of dumpling, from the Netherlands. Voldemort couldn't help thinking about how much Hermione would approve of the variety of the foods he had sampled. He decided that he would take her around Europe one day. Perhaps on a honeymoon?

"Yes," he whispered, dipping a chunk of rumenitov into liptauer. He finished off the food, knowing that he wouldn't require any on Mount Olympus.

An owl swooped down nearby, dropping off a newspaper. It was today's copy of the _Prophet_. He liked to keep an eye on the publication that they had taken over. Make sure that there was nothing…

"What?" he shouted. The headline read:

_**HERMIONE GRANGER: AN OBITUARY**_

He read the article with hungry eyes, lighting his wand in the growing darkness so that he could finish. His defrosting heart memorised every word, and his breathing got louder as he learnt all about this girl—this woman—he hadn't got a chance to know.

It took awhile to compose himself once he had finished reading, and he carefully cut out the article. He folded it, and placed it in the pocket of his robes, before setting fire to the rest of the newspaper.

The hour was nearing, and he had to find that place. He had studied a map, and found that the place indicated by the Aurora Borealis was right in the middle of a lake. To be precise, Lake Mikri Prespa. He had to go straight down the middle, to the exact location, at high speed. Over one hundred and twenty-five miles per hour, without flinching.

Voldemort knew that he could do it, though. Because he was doing it for Hermione, and to bring her back to him. They would marry, she would give him an heir, and all would be well. Maybe they could have more than one child. A son to teach; a daughter to protect. He liked the thought of a mini-Hermione running around. Only in private, of course. He could never let his Death Eaters know about this.

"I'm going soft," he muttered angrily. He gripped the full-size Firebolt, but calmed down. He had come all this way for a reason. He wasn't leaving Greece without his Hermione.

* * *

If Professor Snape had realised that he was being looked for, he would have made sure that he was out of Luna's room. As it was, they had spent a very pleasant night together, and fallen asleep in each other's arms, entangled in every sense of the word. Luna woke blushing, but didn't pull away. Instead, she allowed him to pull her tighter against his body.

"Good morning," she murmured.

"Good morning, my dear."

"Severus?" She rubbed her cheek against his chest.

"Yes, Luna?"

"I always fancied you at Hogwarts." He chuckled. "It's true. And… since we've been working together here… I've, well…"

"You've what?" He nuzzled her hair, and kissed her on the crown of her head.

"Fallen for you."

Severus looked down at Luna, her eyes wide with innocence. Salazar, she was sincere! She really did love him.

"Why?" he asked, and then he blanched. "Sorry. I just meant…"

"Why not?" she said. She kissed his chest, his neck, and then his lips. Eventually, he allowed her to breathe again, and she almost rolled over onto her back. But his grip on her never wavered, never faltered, and she had to catch her breath still lying atop his body.

"I suppose," he said, "that this is very convenient, seeing as how I love you, too."

Without giving her time to reply, he rolled them over, and took up where they had left off, lips crashing urgently against hers.

Two things had been forgotten: one, contraception, both the night before, and in the morning; and two, that they had neglected to put up silencing charms and wards, something which had been forefront in their minds before, but wasn't even thought of in the harsh light of day.

The others burst into the room moments after they heard a scream and a shout, and they all gaped at the sight before them. Luna gasped, and pulled the covers over herself and Professor Snape, who had gone for his wand when the door slammed open. He relaxed marginally when he realised that they weren't being attacked, and then grimaced when it hit him that they had been caught.

Moody spoke first.

"There's been an attack in the Highlands," he said, his gruff voice cutting through the tension like a whip. "The Dark Mark was seen over a Muggle village. We need to have a meeting about this." With that, he limped from the room, followed by the others, until only Arthur and Ginny were left. A few minutes of stubborn silence passed, in which the Weasley patriarch tried to find something to say. But he couldn't, and instead left with a look of disgust. Ginny followed her father, respectfully shutting the door behind them.

The professor and his former student looked at each other.

"For what it's worth," he said, and he moved his hand to hers under the sheet, "I'll never regret this."

"Nor will I," she said, squeezing back. "But let's just get through this meeting, and see where things go from there."

"Indeed."

* * *

Voldemort was poised over Mikri Prespa. Midnight lacked ten seconds.

He leaned forward on the Firebolt, and dived down through the air, down through the water…

And then he was flying upwards.

Upwards, to Mount Olympus.

**

* * *

**

End of part eight. To be continued.


	9. The Trials Begin

"The Trials Begin"

_Voldemort was poised over Mikri Prespa. Midnight lacked ten seconds._

_He leaned forward on the Firebolt, and dived down through the air, down through the water…_

_And then he was flying upwards._

_Upwards, to Mount Olympus._

"Tom Marvolo Riddle the Second, otherwise known as the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

Voldemort looked around. A strange kind of ground, which looked like it was made of dense, colourful clouds, appeared. He landed on it, dismounted, and shrunk the Firebolt. He turned on the spot as he shoved it into his pocket.

"Yes," he said. "I have come here to…"

"I am the Messenger," the voice said. "You will not be able to see me. I am just here."

"I… see. Do I call you 'Messenger'?"

"You may."

"I am here to ask a favour of the gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus, Messenger. How do I find them?"

"Which name do you go by?"

"Voldemort, I suppose."

"To reach the top of Mount Olympus, you must complete different trials. They know why you are here; they can read your heart and soul. In your case, what is left of them."

"Please," he said. "I'll do anything to get her back."

"We will see."

"I said, I will do _anything_. Anything to bring her back to life. Tell them to throw everything they have at me. I'll undergo any torture, any _amount_ of torture. Do your worst."

"For one such as you, they will oblige. You must prove your love and your desperation."

"Anything," Voldemort repeated.

"Very well." A cave-like opening appeared. "Please enter. Do I need to tell you what you are getting into? You still have a chance to refuse…"

"No. I'm here for a reason. I'm here for _her_." Without another word, he entered the side of the mountain.

* * *

Hermione—was it even her?—walked out of the shadows.

"You're here," he whispered, and he ran forwards. "Merlin, I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"Voldemort," Messenger said, "you have your wand?"

"Y-yes," he said, looking around, but settling his eyes back on Hermione once again. "I never part with it. But I'll get rid of it if you like."

"No. You will need it for your first task."

"Here," he said, drawing it out of his pocket. His eyes never left Hermione's, as she stared up at him. There was a soft look on her face. "Is it really you?" he asked her.

"It's really me," she said. "I was elsewhere, but they brought me here for you."

"Hermione." He lifted a hand, and placed it on her shoulder. "My Hermione. I love you." She gasped, and he pulled her closer. Finally, he embraced her, and knew that the greatest moment in his life so far was when her arms went around his waist.

"Your first task," Messenger announced, "is to use the Imperius curse on Miss Granger."

Voldemort pulled back, looking horrified. Hermione looked equally worried. Then her expression turned furious.

"Of course," she said. "I forgot what you are. This should be easy for you."

"Hermione…" She tore herself from his arms, and walked away, standing on the opposite side of the cave. "But I'm doing it for you."

"What is your choice, Voldemort?" Messenger said.

The Dark Lord sighed. Hermione hated him. But he loved her.

"Imperio."

Hermione's face went blank. It seemed she wasn't even trying to fight it.

"What do I make her do?" he asked.

"Whatever you want her to do. Entertain you, pleasure you."

Voldemort felt ill. He couldn't do that to her. He had to do something, though. She was too young to die.

He wanted what he had once missed, what he could have had if he hadn't run away, afraid of what he had felt.

"Kiss me," he told Hermione. His heart pounded as she moved slowly to him. She was so gentle as she cradled his face, angling it down. She then moved her hands down to his shoulders, and stood on her tiptoes. As soon as their lips met, he pulled her body close to his. He didn't have to force her mouth open, nor did he have to force her tongue to tangle with his. He knew that they couldn't go on like this forever, no matter how much he wanted to. He drew away, though her lips tried to follow. He ended the spell, and winced as Hermione looked at him hatefully. Tears formed, and she pushed him away violently.

"You b…"

"I'm sorry. Really I am."

"Oh really? Oh bloody _really_?" She was shouting now. He couldn't take it.

"Messenger! What do I do next?"

"You must use the Cruciatus curse on her…"

"No! I can't!"

"You must. Do you not love her enough?"

"Love has nothing to…" He looked at Hermione, who had collapsed to her knees. "I… Oh, to hell with it. Crucio!"

Hermione winced, but then realised that the spell hadn't worked. Voldemort frowned, and tried again. Why wasn't it working?

"You must feel hate," Messenger said. "Do you not recall?"

"But I… I can't hate her." Voldemort knelt in front of Hermione. "My darling one, I can never hate you," he whispered to her. She looked up at him.

"You killed my friends, my family. You and your followers. Doesn't that mean the slightest thing to you? You _must _hate me."

"Anything that hurts you hurts me."

"You didn't seem to mind that kiss at all."

"No," he admitted, stroking her hair.

"I _hate_ you," she said, glaring at him.

He understood her feelings. And it hit him. He knew who to hate.

Looking at Hermione, and what he had done to her, he hated himself for it. He stood, and pointed his wand at her.

"Crucio."

Her piercing screams cut him through more than any others he had ever heard. He held it, hoping that Messenger would give him some instruction to stop, and soon. He didn't dare break it early.

Please tell me to stop, he chanted over and over in his mind. Please tell me to stop. Please tell me to stop. Please tell…

"You may stop whenever you like," Messenger said, and Voldemort broke the spell immediately.

"Thank you," he said. Hermione's voice was raw as she coughed and whimpered. "Can we get a drink for her? A voice restorative potion? Anything?"

"You know," she said, and he knelt in front of her again, "I used to love you. Just for one moment, I know I did. I was in love with you for a moment."

"That's more than I've ever had the rest of my life," he said, and she nodded.

"I'm not surprised. Because the rest of the time, I've hated you. I fully expected you to do something bad to me. I loved you; and then I remembered who you are. Don't bother to bring me back. What would I have? Nothing. Nobody. Probably everyone I know will be dead by the time you get back." She was wiping away tears, her voice still a croak. "So just leave me the hell alone. I don't want you."

Voldemort nodded. "Not everyone is gone. And you know that I wouldn't have them attacked, just to make you happy." He stood, frustrated. "Damn it, don't you realise?"

"Your third task, Voldemort…"

"Whatever it is, I don't want to hurt her anymore!" he shouted at Messenger. "Don't make me punish her for my mistakes!"

"You do not set the rules. However, we have more in store for you."

"What?" he asked cautiously. Suddenly, he found himself falling onto a bed. He looked around, and saw Hermione chained to a chair nearby. He sat up, making a move to go and help her, when a noise came from behind him. He turned around, and gaped.

A copy of Hermione walked through a doorway. The outfit she had on was little more than a tight black corset, trimmed with blood-red lace. It didn't cover much at all. He felt frozen, as though he was tied to the bed. She climbed on, and crawled towards him.

"Miss Granger," Messenger said, and both Voldemort and Hermione looked up. The fake Hermione, however, was busy undressing the Dark Lord. "How would you like to see them play out all the fantasies he has ever had about you?"

"No," she whispered, trying to shut her eyes, or even turn her head. But magic didn't allow her to. It was also magic that was compelling him to kiss the fake back.

Within seconds, Voldemort completely forgot that this wasn't the real Hermione, and that _she_ was instead watching the show that he unwittingly was playing out.

**

* * *

**

End of part nine. To be continued.


	10. Meeting the Gods

"Meeting the Gods"

"_Miss Granger," Messenger said, and both Voldemort and Hermione looked up. The fake Hermione, however, was busy undressing the Dark Lord. "How would you like to see them play out all the fantasies he has ever had about you?"_

"_No," she whispered, trying to shut her eyes, or even turn her head. But magic didn't allow her to. It was also magic that was compelling him to kiss the fake back._

_Within seconds, Voldemort completely forgot that this wasn't the real Hermione, and that she was instead watching the show that he unwittingly was playing out._

Voldemort was exhausted. He had never felt anything like it. Such happiness.

When he turned over, he saw that Hermione wasn't there. He frowned, and then heard a sniff. A feeling of horror settled over him, and he slowly rolled over. There was the _real_ Hermione Granger. She looked ill, and upset. He pulled on his clothes as quickly as possible, and then went to untie her.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped. He sighed, and waved his wand to get rid of the ropes. Hermione was in such a rush to get away from him that she knocked over the chair, and fell to the floor with it. She let out a yelp. He was immediately sweeping her up into his arms, and placing her on the bed. She shoved his hands away, and he sighed.

"I'm trying to help…"

"I don't _want_ your help. Just leave me be."

"Voldemort," Messenger said, and he groaned, "you must do one final task."

"No," he said, his voice a soft moan. But Hermione's tear-stained face brought him back. "What is it, Messenger?"

"You must use the final Unforgivable on her."

This was the worst thing he could have been asked to do. He had to summon hate for _her_ to make this work. Hating himself wouldn't work.

"Why?" he asked tiredly, sitting beside Hermione on the bed. She drew back from him.

"If you wish to give her new life, you must end the old one. She is no longer truly dead; but on Earth, she would die again, only in a drawn-out, painful way."

"How can I possibly hate her?" He looked at her. "She's everything to me."

"She hates you. Isn't that enough?"

Voldemort stood, and aimed at Hermione. He replaced her with the doppelganger in his mind, but that didn't help. Instead, he thought of Hermione as being on the opposite side of the war from him, as the girl who helped to stop him from coming back to life twice. All that extra time they could have had together, and they didn't get it, all because of her.

He summoned all the hate that he could. She only loved him a moment; just one moment. She, in all her kind, Gryffindor-ness, couldn't bring herself to love him any more, any longer than that. She was able to hate _and_ to love him. He could do the same. He just had to find the one speck of hate for her.

"Avada kedavra," he said, and green sparks leapt from his wand.

For the second time, he killed Hermione Granger. He barely moved before everything around him disappeared, and he found himself facing Zeus.

* * *

"You have done well, despite your weak moments, Dark Lord Voldemort," the god said. "But in your life, you have done many terrible things, things which have led to this."

"I know," Voldemort said. "I can acknowledge it. If I could take it all back, then I would. But," and he sighed, "I know that I cannot. However, I can beg for Hermione's life. I want her to be happy. I want her to be happy with me."

"And do you suppose that she can be?" A female had asked this. Voldemort turned, taking in all of the gods and goddesses around him.

"I know that she cannot be _truly_ happy," he said. "Not completely. I ask only that she be restored, given a second chance."

"So you do not wish for a second chance yourself?" Zeus asked.

"I do not deserve one. Please give Hermione life again. I love her. I wish I had found this sooner, but I didn't. Things might have been different. They _would_ have been different."

"However," someone said, and Voldemort twisted around; it was Messenger speaking, still invisible, "you questioned the tasks."

"Yes," he said, bowing his head. "I know that I failed in that respect. But…"

"You would willingly spare the life of one Muggleborn witch, without caring for the lives of others?"

"I… no. Not anymore."

"Why? Be honest."

"Because it would hurt her if I continued to do that. It would be better for all if I were dead, and Hermione were alive."

"Perhaps," Zeus said, stroking his chin. "But that is not what you asked for, is it?"

"Please," he begged, falling to his knees.

"We have watched you, and admired your strength and perseverance," one of the goddesses said. She sat two to the right of Zeus. "These traits, and intelligence, are the only good characteristics that you possess. However," she looked around at the others, who all nodded, "we do believe in second chances. There was some good in you when you saved her, and when you did everything that you could to get here. And when there is even a little good in a mortal being, we have the power to change things, and give them the opportunity to allow that good to manifest itself properly."

"Therefore, we have made the decision to change the past, starting from your first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Zeus said. "You will have the chance to stay as Tom Riddle, and not become Lord Voldemort. You must give up your childhood ambition to eradicate Muggleborns and half-bloods, and to take over the wizarding world. If you are humble, and remain a good and honest person, then we will grant a happier life for Hermione."

"Of course," he said quickly.

"Otherwise it will all be taken away, and you will remember having failed for the rest of your days." Voldemort nodded. "However, it may be that you and Hermione never have a chance to be together. And the age difference…"

"Age means nothing to me. It didn't before, it doesn't now, and it never will."

"Be that as it may, are you willing to accept the consequence that you may never have her love?"

"While I would want nothing more than the chance to earn her love, I do accept that it may not be. I want this nonetheless. Not for me; but for her."

The deities spoke with each other through their minds. They turned their attention on the Dark Lord, who was still on his knees. He could feel his heart breaking, sure that he would never be able to call her his Hermione. He was the only one not to notice that a single tear fell straight from one eye to the cloud-ground. A rumble through Olympus signalled the decision.

"Very well," Zeus said, and he clapped his hands. Lord Voldemort disappeared, as time was reversed, and then changed.

* * *

Aphrodite looked at him. "My Lord Zeus. May I make a suggestion?"

"Speak, my dear."

"That we bring Hermione Granger's birth forward a few decades, and decree that she _shall_ fall in love with him. They are well-matched in many respects. Voldemort got in the way of Tom Riddle; otherwise they would have been happy. When they meet, they will no longer have the connection that the Life Debt gave."

"It is true that that played a part in his infatuation with her," Demeter said. "He became attached to her, and equated this to love. And I believe that, after waiting so long to find a match, Love struck him hard and fast." Eros snorted at the innuendo, and Demeter glared at him. "Quiet, Libido Boy."

"Are you going to let her speak to me thusly?" Eros asked Zeus, pretending to be affronted.

"The fates are speaking to me, so hush," the king of the gods said. The others waited while he listened to some unheard source. Finally, he spoke once more. "The Moirae have decreed that Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger should be together. Therefore, I believe that Aphrodite's suggestion is the right one. Who seconds the motion?" A quick count was taken. "Very well. So will it be."

THE END

**

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**

Please hang around for the sequel. It will be Hermione/Tom Riddle Jr, obviously, since he won't be Voldemort anymore. Don't know when I'll have it written, but keep an eye open for it. Hope to see you there!


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